100 One-Shot Challenge
by Christmas Spirit of the Brook
Summary: Looking for a challenge that is full of one-shots? Particularly 100 one-shots of different themes? Then, this is the story for you. Beowulf's Spirit or Beowulfie/Brooke/Spirit/a ton of nicknames that I forgot does the 100 One-Shot Challenge. Hopefully, it will be finished.
1. Injured

**A/N: Hello, everyone! Beowulf's Spirit here with something absolutely lovely….. A CHALLENGE! For the first time in life, I'm actually accepting a challenge! Except for that one time in first grade, when I was dared to kiss…. (Tigerstripe: Okay, maybe you don't need to share so much vivid details. But, the challenge is..) The challenge is to write 100 one-shots with various themes! As some of you might know (*hint, hint* Cocoa *hint, hint*), I love to write one-shots especially with themes! So, the first one is… *checks Prin's beginning chapter* Injured! Ooh, sounds fierce…. So, let's go write this one-shot!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Warriors! The Erin Hunters do and if you have not noticed, I am unfortunately not an Erin Hunter. I'm not a unicorn either.**

 **100 One-Shots Challenge; Challenge By: Prin Pardus**

 **Injured**

The stink of death hung heavily in the air. Countless bodies lay littered along the grassy clearing, blood still oozing from their wounds. But a cat stirred on the battlefield. This one cat was the only one alive.

It had started as a normal morning for Hollypaw. She had woken up at dawn as always to watch the sun rise. Her mentor, Swiftclaw had found her in her favorite spot in the clearing near the top of the stone hollow. Swiftclaw didn't appreciate her daydreaming up here when she should be in camp listening to the deputy, but he let her go for this time. This would be the last time he would ever greet her in that clearing.

Hollypaw followed the muscular sandy brown tom back into camp and listened to Redheart calling out patrols. But she yearned for adventure this morning and was glad when she was assigned to the dawn patrol along with Ivysky, Willowdapple, and Sparrowleap and Willowdapple's apprentice, Sorrelpaw.

While the four warriors conversed quietly at the front of the patrol, Sorrelpaw and Hollypaw chattered like birds. Soon, they found that they had lagged behind the patrol so far that the older warriors were nowhere in sight. Sorrelpaw sighed and the two sat down on the wide root of a maple for a rest.

Soon, Hollypaw got bored and offered to play "Truth or Dare". Sorrelpaw eagerly accepted, her eyes shining like she had thousands of dares in her mind yowling at her. Hollypaw began.

"Truth or dare," she questioned, looking Sorrelpaw straight in the face. The lithe brown tabby apprentice laughed and slapped a paw on the ground. "Dare, of course!" she exclaimed enthusiastically, tail lashing and waiting for the dare to be thrown on her.

Hollypaw frowned. She had been hoping for a truth, but this was the best she could get. She smiled and mewed, "I dare you to run up to Willowdapple and say, 'You old cats are slow! Need a trip to the elders' den?'" The dark brown she-cat snorted with laughter, while Sorrelpaw looked down at her paws with embarrassment. "Could you give me another one?" she asked slowly.

"Hah! I knew it!" Hollypaw jumped up and swished her tail in Sorrelpaw's direction, pointing it out to no one in particular. "You're a scaredy cat! Sorrelpaw's a scaredy cat! Scaredy cat! Scaredy cat!"

Sorrelpaw responded with a frustrated hiss and she lashed her tail. "Well, if you're quite finished," she meowed sullenly. "I'd like to place this pressure on you: Truth or dare?"

Hollypaw went silent for a moment then replied, "Truth!" Sorrelpaw unsheathed her claws and worked them in and out of the bark of the tree root. She then looked up, a bright, mischievous look in her eyes. "What would you do first if your Clanmates were caught in a deadly situation?"

Hollypaw slowly contemplated the information then nodded as if she had made a decision mentally. "I would save the first cat I saw in peril," she meowed. Sorrelpaw mewed slyly. "But if you could imagine who was in peril, who would you save?"

The light brown apprentice cupped her paw over her mouth, trying to hold in her laughter. Hollypaw frowned, knowing Sorrelpaw was hinting at the slight crush she had on Ashpaw. "My mother and my siblings," she mewed honestly, drawing herself up straight.

"No, but seriously," Sorrelpaw meowed, looking up at the canopy of leaves above her head with a faraway look in her eyes. "What if our Clan was put in a deadly situation?" Hollypaw looked at her best friend, her green eyes warm.

"I doubt that time will come soon," she meowed, looking up at the branches as well. "Our Clan is alive and well and the prey is coming in faster than you can say mouse." She laughed at her light-hearted joke, but Sorrelpaw's eyes remained fixed on the great beyond.

Suddenly, an ear-splitting shriek cut through the still air, surprising Hollypaw and snapping Sorrelpaw out of her trance. They both looked at each other and Sorrelpaw exclaimed, "That sounded like Sparrowleap!"

The two apprentices sprinted through the forest like lightning and quickly, they found themselves on a slight hill looking down upon the grassy clearing that Firestar, an ancient leader of the past had given to ShadowClan once, but taken back.

The scene below shocked them. Sparrowleap was dead, deep claw marks scored directly on his throat. Blood flowed like a river from his stomach, which had been slashed mercilessly several times and his jaws were open, letting out a now silent shriek they had heard on the maple root.

In front of the patrol stood a multitude of unfamiliar cats, all of them staring silently at the Clan cats. Hollypaw stiffened when she saw blood on their leader's paws and how he delicately stepped over Sparrowleap's lifeless form.

She ran down the side of the hill and up to the patrol. Swiftclaw turned around with an angered look on his face. "Hollypaw!" he erupted, flinging himself forward with his claws unsheathed. Hollypaw braced herself for the sting of his long claws, but did not feel them.

She looked up and saw that Swiftclaw was walking forward, his powerful shoulders shifting from side to side. He glared at the unknown cats' leader and began to speak.

Hollypaw took the time while Swiftclaw was speaking to study the cats' leader. He was as powerful as Swiftclaw, with a sleek, dark grey pelt and stormy dark blue eyes that seemed to glow with an evil light. His cruel-looking black, shiny claws were permanently stained with blood at the tips and when the tom grinned, Hollypaw could see that his upper teeth cut into the side of his jaw, making the appearance that his mouth was gurgling with blood.

Hollypaw nearly vomited at his disgusting looks, but even more so when he spoke. It was dark and rich, yet it seemed to her like ice. It cracked in the oddest of moments and when he made a stinging retort, the blood from the side of his jaw would slap against his teeth and his tone would be that of a demon.

Now, the tom lifted his head proudly, revealing a deep, horrid scar that was stained bright red from seasons of merciless unneeded death. "I was but a simple kittypet," the cat hissed grimly. "But when I was abandoned, I learned the true taste of victory: innocent blood. That's where I get my name, you fools: Stormblood."

The tom then attacked with the force of LionClan, raking his crimson-tipped claws down across Swiftclaw's face until he finally reached his throat. Stormblood looked up from the warrior's neck, his dark blue eyes insanely wild. " _It's time for revenge, Swiftpaw!"_

Then Stormblood's claws sank deep into Swiftclaw's throat, cackling with laughter. "Attack, StormClan, attack!" Stormblood's followers surged forward, attacking the small patrol. Swiftclaw dropped dead, his amber eyes never to see anything ever again.

Hollypaw let out a wail and rushed to her mentor's side. She felt herself choking on tears and her vision went blurry. She looked up at Sorrelpaw, who stood dumbstruck. "Go and get help, you mouse-brain!" she yowled.

Sorrelpaw nodded and immediately retreated into the shadows of the forest. She held on to Swiftclaw like he was her life. She lifted her head to look Stormblood in the eye and his malicious eyes churned with a deep depth of revenge finally earned.

Now, Hollypaw was the one who needed to feel vengeful toward this tom. She padded forward, her green eyes narrowed with hate. She would get Stormblood back if it was the last thing she would ever do.

The battle rushed past like a blur. Hollypaw was hardly conscious of claws swiping at her sides. She remembered a night black tom wrestling with her and wounding her viciously. Her cheek was permanently scarred now and Hollypaw took that as a token to show how bravely she fought.

The dark brown she-cat finally escaped from the tom's grasp, unsheathing her claws and raking them across his neck. The older cat stopped in his tracks and began to breathe heavily. Suddenly, the black tom started writhing on the floor, restricted of air and slowly dying.

Hollypaw smiled grimly then padded toward Stormblood who was sitting calmly at the edge of the battlefield, watching StormClan and ThunderClan go at each other. The tom looked surprised as if he expected her to be dead then gestured with his dark grey tail to a soft spot of grass next to him.

Hollypaw gazed into the vengeful chips of ice that were Stormblood's eyes and smartly decided to sit in front of the untrusted tom. "Young one, I see that you may be wondering why I killed Swiftpaw-"

"Swift _claw_ ," she interrupted fiercely. Stormblood dipped his head in an uncharacteristic politeness. Hollypaw narrowed her eyes. "Yes, Swiftclaw," he mewed quickly. "Well, the truth is that I was only getting him back for the pain he had dealt to me."

"What?!" the dark brown apprentice hissed, springing up and swiping across the tom's cheek fiercely with her claws. But Stormblood remained calm, staring coldly right through her. "Swiftclaw hurt me when I was but a simple kit," he answered through clenched teeth. "I knew nothing at the time except that I was weak, small, and no use to this world. I do value your mentor for something. He taught me that if I wanted revenge, I would get it no matter what obstacles I would face." He laughed a harsh, maniacal chuckle that ripped through the air like claws. "Now, I have one more obstacle left. The witness of my story, the last survivor."

Before Hollypaw could protest, Stormblood leaped forward and caught her in a death-lock. His paws were gripped around her neck and she struggled to breathe. Stormblood was about to win when Hollypaw was flashed back to a moment of her training.

"If you're caught in a death-lock," Swiftclaw had explained. "Don't struggle; it will only make you weaker and your opponent grip tighter. Pretend to weaken and fall limp in your opponent's paws. They'll think you're dead and they'll relax. Then explode upwards when they've relaxed enough and give them a blow that they'll remember forever." Hollypaw narrowed her eyes. _For Swiftclaw, for Sorrelpaw, for Willowdapple, for Ivysky, for Sparrowleap, FOR MY CLAN!_

Hollypaw went limp in Stormblood's death-lock. "There, little apprentice," he whispered softly. "Go run up to your supposed StarClan." The dark brown she-cat waited a few moments then focused all her strength into her forepaws. She bunched her muscles then leaped, opening her eyes to see Stormblood's eyes stretching wide with surprise. Hollypaw let out a wordless shriek and slashed her claws across the dreadful tom's throat, ending him once and for all.

Stormblood hissed then fell with a thump. Hollypaw limped over to him and leaned her face in close next to his. "'Go run up to your supposed StarClan'," she whispered mockingly. "No, I think you're far too bad for StarClan. So, go now to the Dark Forest." Stormblood opened his mouth to let out a yowl of protest but at that moment, he was gone.

Hollypaw suddenly felt all the wounds burning on her pelt. Her muscles screamed in protest against moving, but she couldn't die next to Stormblood. She padded weakly over to a spot near the middle of the battlefield. She dropped on the grass and felt blackness covering her vision then she drifted into unconsciousness.

Hollypaw woke to the sounds of birds chirping. She stretched her legs out, expecting to feel a soft mossy nest that she slept in every night. But instead, she felt an unfamiliar rough pelt. She opened her eyes reluctantly, only to be faced with giant, glassy yellow eyes completely unlike Sorrelpaw's.

She jumped up with a quiet shriek. Then she realized where she was. She remembered how she had defeated Stormblood and destroyed the rogue group once and for all. Suddenly, she saw the shadow of a group of cats stretching across the battlefield.

She was about to let out a cry to show them that she was still alive when suddenly, a cloak of darkness fell over her eyes and she could not see nor hear any longer.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Is she alive?" A pained whisper sounded beside Hollypaw's ear, making her twitch it in frustration. _Wait, I can hear?_ Slowly, Hollypaw opened her eyes and she saw Sorrelpaw sitting beside her, her dark eyes concerned. "She's alive!" Sorrelpaw cried out, joy flickering in her gaze. "What?" Hollypaw mumbled.

Sorrelpaw ran out of the den to get the medicine cat, Nightshade to come in. The quiet black she-cat worked silently on her wounds, fixing on more cobwebs and a few more poultices. "You have a severe injury, Hollypaw," she mewed softly. "One of your back legs is paralyzed due to a cut off nerve. You probably won't be able to become a warrior." Hollypaw's eyes widened.

All that training for nothing! She shook her head vigorously. "No, whatever you do, don't make me part of your boring medicine cat work," she meowed firmly. Nightshade shrugged and padded off calmly. "We'll see," she said over her shoulder and Hollypaw swore she saw a faint wicked smile playing across her lips.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoO

Hollypaw's muscles strained to work as she lifted herself off the ground with her front legs. But it was no use. Even after several moons of training, she still couldn't balance herself on her back legs, making her useless. _Dumb paralyzed leg!_ Hollypaw wondered angrily why StarClan would allow her to have an injury like this.

But it was official. Flamestar was making Hollypaw apprentice to Nightshade and the dark brown she-cat wasn't so sure she trusted the medicine cat. She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw something terribly evil in the cat's gaze.

She sighed. She turned toward the black she-cat and again, that faint smile fixed herself on her face. "Well, then," Nightshade mewed. "Let's start training, shall we?"

 **Eh, wasn't my best work though I do like the ending. Maybe, Nightshade was evil, maybe she wasn't. I wonder what will happen to little Hollypaw with her paralyzed leg. Kind of based her off of Briarlight, but her leg wasn't crushed by a tree. Oh, no, no, no! Her leg was just kind of torn up during the battle, some cat's claw hit a nerve or something, and it cut off all stimulation from the brain to her leg. So…. Yep, only one leg works and that doesn't even serve her well. She's like Cinderpelt except Cinderpelt could actually limp. Briarlight could drag herself around. But Hollypaw's pretty much useless. Should've made it a tragedy with the Clan tossing her out to the foxes and ending with her ripping her apart. Eh, we can't do things sometimes. Why is this author's note so long?**


	2. Sinking

**Beowulfie's here with the second one-shot of the challenge. Next one up….. Sinking! Ooh, gonna have fun with this one. *grins evilly* I just had an idea! *face flares up with inspiration and world explodes* Yeah, I'm very, very hype right now. I feel like I just had coffee which I didn't because it's like 12:00 AM right now. So, it makes no sense. Am I hype from coffee….or NAW….. No need to incorporate Vines and Memes into this, Beo. *slaps self in the face* Tigerstripe, would you do me the honors of slapping me in the face? (Tigerstripe: Why, I would be honored. *slaps bomb into Beo's face*) AHHH! *explodes* I'm back from the dead with the one-shot. YAYYY! Tigerstripe, tell them the disclaimer thingy so I don't die. *begins typing away***

 **Tigerstripe: Beo/Brooke/Wulfie does not own Warriors no matter what you think. She's not the master of the series. The Erin Hunters own Warriors, not her! Okay, canceling all doubt from your brain: SHE DOES NOT OWN WARRIORS! Ugh, still a small remnant still thinks she owns Warriors. Eh, I'll just kill them with my knife. *slices their throats and smiles* That's better. SHE DOES NOT OWN WARRIORS AGAIN! On to the one-shot, peepzies! Enjoy!**

 ** _G_**

Why do you ask me that question? Every time you ask, I go in deeper. I sink deeper into this pit of regret I'm building. Why do you ask me? I beg of you, why don't you kill me now and release me from this place? I'm just sinking. No harm will be done to you.

My name is Wolfflame and over the countless seasons I've stayed here, I've learned the mistakes in my previous life and memorized those horrible memos thousands of times over. I did a terrible thing when I was young; to be exact, I was about your age, nineteen moons, still rejoicing over my warrior ceremony.

I was at a Gathering and out of bitterness and jealousy, I killed someone. To be exact, it was my father, Flamestar. The leader was strong and had many lives ahead of him. He had only lost three so far and I was too impatient to let the tom lose the others on his own. So, I killed him, stopping his heartbeat and every time he took his last breath, he would rejuvenate, stronger than ever. It was very hard to kill him as he just became a more powerful enemy rather than weakening him.

But when he was on his ninth life, I struck a killing blow to his head and finally, Flamestar was gone and I was free to become leader. I washed my paws clean of his scent and blood and licked my fur smooth over my wounds so I didn't even look ruffled. I walked into the main clearing in the middle of the Gathering, looking distraught and crying out, "Flamestar is dead!"

A ripple of surprised murmurs ran through the Clans. I wasn't satisfied, though with what I had done. I killed Flamestar's loyal deputy, Greywhisker as well. She was hard to get through to as she was suspicious of her leader's death. Greywhisker wasn't leader for long; in fact, she was only a 'star for less than a day. I killed her soon after. I was appointed deputy for being Flamestar's son but I noticed Hollywing, the old medicine cat that was nearly batty mumble something almost incomprehensible about the ginger leader's mysterious death.

That night, I killed her, too and received my nine lives at the same time. She was with me in StarClan and after they had visited, giving me my nine lives, I looked at Hollywing. The scruffy dark brown she-cat was speaking with another StarClan cat so I patiently waited until the starry warrior was gone before I sliced her throat, breathing out murderous threats that if she warned my deputy about my treachery, she would die a second time.

I was now Wolfstar, but there was something wrong with my life. I didn't know what it was, but it kept on bothering me. One day, I realized what it was: it was guilt. I hadn't wanted to kill Hollywing, Greywhisker, or even Flamestar. My father had been loyal to his Clan and all I had done was cheat to get to the top. I was no leader at all.

So, I killed myself, running off a gorge and into the deep, swirling waters. Death sunk in soon after I jumped in, the shock tiring and weakening me. But then, I was stuck there. I kept on floating underwater, but I was dead. My paws were numb and I felt no feelings as I anchored myself to the bottom of the rushing river.

From there, I killed. I killed every single cat that needed to die. I didn't care nor was I ruthless. I didn't misuse my power; I only used it in the way it was meant to be used. Here I am, sinking deeper into this pool of regret…Guilt still haunts me and all the murderers are haunted, too.

So, if you're jealous, enraged, or negative in any way, don't follow my lead and kill someone. Because that leads to a deadly, deadly drowning…..One day, I was sitting at my post watching a young she-cat, Tigerstripe destroy the Clans in need of revenge. Then, I decided I needed to teach her what it meant to be a murderer, what you would have to face in the end.

So, I cut off her life. Her life floated towards me, wandering among the banks of the river. I, frustrated floated off the bottom of the river, covered in ever-shifting sand and silt. I broke my head out of the water. "Tigerstripe," I hissed. "Don't listen to the vengeful voices. All they want is to trap you like they trapped me." Tigerstripe looked at me with vague, blank eyes. "Who are you?" she asked sleepily, her tone sluggish. "I'm Wolfstar, former leader of ThunderClan who ran off of a cliff and died."

Tigerstripe's eyes widened. "But you're dead," she stated, backing away from me. I snorted in exasperation. Of course, I was dead! I had just told her that! "Yes, I am," I replied calmly. "But I killed three cats in my lifetime, three cats that are not here now. Flamestar the leader before Greywhisker, the leader before me who I also killed, and Hollywing, an old, crazy medicine cat." The light brown tabby chuckled at the mention of Hollywing for some reason.

"I killed Hollywing's niece," she smirked. "Yes, I know you did," I said solemnly. "But you weren't dead then!" Tigerstripe protested a venomous look on her face as her hackles began to rise. "Get your mindset out of killing," I croaked, suddenly feeling a need for water. "I will send you off with a word of warning to not kill for the rest of your peaceful moons. I give your life back to the world."  
With that, I sent Tigerstripe back to her nest. But she didn't listen; she killed so many innocent souls that I claimed them all so I could protect them from her rage when she came down here. Then the day came. A hungry fox wandered upon Tigerstripe and flew upon her, ripping her apart and flaying her skin to ribbons.

Before her soul could be destroyed like her body, I released it and she appeared next to me, a wisp of darkness trailing after her. "This is where we wait, Tiger-"Then I felt a rumbling and something sticky sucking at my paws. I tried to lift them, but the weight was too great. The earth was pulling me in.

My pit had grown too steep and too tall for me to be saved from. What had started as a tiny impression in the sand had grown into a deep, elaborate cave loaded with guilt and venomous regret. I was leaving, sinking. "Goodbye, Tigerstripe," I meowed sorrowfully watching her jump up in alarm as I dug farther into the ground. "You should've listened to me. The pit will grab you…."I stared at her with unnerving eyes. "You...will...sink." As the last glimmer of the sunlit river's surface disappeared as sand closed in over my face, I saw fear in Tigerstripe's eyes.

 _She can't handle it alone,_ I thought with horror. But as it turned out, when I had fully sunken into the riverbed, a dark warrior came to receive her and she was brought to the Dark Forest, a place where cats who were too evil for StarClan lived. I don't know why I wasn't brought there, but I can only guess it was because I was to be the Keeper of the River, the Keeper of Death itself.

It's a monotonous job being the Keeper of Death but I can only hope that someday, a cat will take my place. Why, look. Here comes a twisted, young individual, wandering, looking for revenge after the death of her love that she caused to die herself and her dead lover's kits with another she-cat.

Oh, but there is one kit left: one that will serve the purpose of killing that she-cat. I believe I have found the next Keeper of Death. I have long since forgotten my name….Hmm, I told it to you in the beginning of the story? Ah, must've had a remembering streak. What was it, Wolfstar…formerly Wolfflame? Yes, now I remember. I just call myself Rock now for the stuff shifts all around me in my tunnel.

Rock, former Keeper of Death, Keeper of the River, an ambitious leader hungry for power…..Now you know my story… You might want to know the other stories that dwell here.

 **I wish this was the beginning chapter. It's like a segment to all the other stories and it's just so exciting. Honestly, when I began writing this, I just thought of a young tom named Wolfflame that was ambitious and so he murdered his father, the leader his father's deputy., and his medicine cat (Bet you can't guess which story she came from :P). Later, he was just going to sink into a pool of regret. I actually didn't mean for him to become Rock! So, yeah, we all know the beginning story that is told, that Rock and Midnight watched the world of Warriors begin over a lake? What if Rock actually began evil and recruits evil for his purposes? I just thought that was an awesome story idea! I may be using this factor in other stories. I love first person point of view for this kind of story! It's so exciting! *giggles* Hope you enjoyed this part of the 100 One-shot Challenge! Not all of these will be from Rock's POV, I promise.**

 _ **-Beowulfie**_


	3. Father

**Welcome back, little Gemskies! Beo's here with another chapter of the 100 One-Shot Challenge (almost said 100 Baby Challenge; I'm dying for The Sims 4)! The next little entry's theme will be….Father! I love this challenge a lot because I like seeing where my imagination will take me. So, this third one will be Father! After this one, only 97 to go! I'll be updating depending on my schedule for this story because I have forum stuff to do and updating LotRHS and all that and planning little stories such as Thundercrest Lane. Yep, got a lot to do when you're a FFA! BUT I STILL LOVE IT! Les go!**

 **A response to your reviews:  
Guest (Chapter 1): If you believe in Stormblood's words, yes, innocent blood is the true taste of victory. I find it very tasty. Like pizza.**

 **Guest: (Chapter 2): Heh, I set it up so that he had no feelings and only follows Fate. He couldn't hate anyone. His mind is steel, not bringing anything in, not bringing anything out (not that there was anything in there in the first place). And hey, this is Rock we're talking about here! But yes, if I wasn't immobilized to feelings, yes, I would drop a tree branch on someone I hated for giggles and shiz. So, yes, Rock is an emotionless being that just pretends he believes in Jayfeather or cares for him. His brain is a lie! *le gasp***

 **Tigerstripe: BEO DOES NOT OWN WARRIORS. PERIOD. That's your disclaimer for the day. Hope you enjoy the one-shot!**

Patchpaw looked up at the dark night sky teeming with stars. _I wonder if my father's there,_ he wondered. He then shook his head. _Probably not if Webshine said he's a rogue. He wouldn't believe in StarClan then._ Sighing, he settled down on his stomach, wincing as his sloshing belly spread out from underneath him. The young tom had had quite a feast the evening before and now he was bulging with prey. _Ugh, I ate too much…._

He looked at his sister, Dawnpaw peacefully sleeping in her nest, comfortably full as she had chosen to be smart and not eat as much as Patchpaw. His stomach gurgled as if to remind him of that. But tonight, he couldn't sleep not from his digesting problems but from thinking about his father.

 _Maybe he was a good cat,_ Patchpaw thought. _But why would he not believe in StarClan?_ His brow furrowed as he thought of the impossibilities. Sighing, he settled down and turned back to the apprentices' den.

"Wait!" A sudden, masculine voice called out, making Patchpaw turn around. Descending from the sky was a bushy-furred tom with stars in his fur and a pale light that shone around him. He could just make out his pelt color, black-and-white like him. "Hello?" Patchpaw asked cautiously, not sure he was ready to talk to a starry cat he barely knew.

The tom smiled, revealing pearly white teeth that flashed in the dark. "Hello, my son," he meowed warmly. "Son?" Patchpaw was confused. His father had been a rogue that didn't believe in StarClan.

"You're not my father," he retorted coldly, his fur bristling as he bared his fangs. The cat frowned and shook his head slowly. "No, Patchpaw," he began to say, but the small black-and-white apprentice backed away.

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say, you starry….freak!" Patchpaw spat, deep down afraid that he had actually met his father. He backed away, his tail brushing the entrance and he saw the tom take a step toward the forest. The sky was lightening as dawn approached and the stars seemed to glow less faintly in his fur.

The tom called out something incomprehensible as Patchpaw vanished into the apprentices' den and stayed there, watching with fearful eyes as the unknown cat that claimed to be his father flickered and burned out in the rising sun.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Several seasons later, Patchpaw had grown into a fine, young tom, skilled enough to become a warrior. He received his warrior name, Patchstorm along with his sister who was given the name Dawnheart. He was blessed with amazing hunting skills, though he was a bit weak on fighting whilst Dawnheart seemed to become a different she-cat entirely.

Her calm beginning apprentice days had ended and she was now fiery, hot-headed, and surprisingly snappy toward her brother. Patchstorm hadn't changed much, only to become much more sensible and skilled. He was still a naïve young warrior, after all.

It was night now and the two were on their silent vigil, looking toward the stars and protecting the Clan from external dangers. Patchstorm glanced at Dawnheart, who was humbly bowing her head, quiet but alert.

The black-and-white warrior sighed and settled his chin on his forepaws, looking longingly at the sky. For the first time in moons since that strange dream he had had about meeting his father cloaked in stars, he began to think about his father. He wondered where he was right now, dead or alive. Was he enjoying the shining presence of StarClan or lurking in the deep depths of the Dark Forest?

He hoped he was alive. Then he would one day be able to meet him. But that would never happen now. No warrior would trust him with the duty of finding a cat that had maybe not known them at all or had been long lost.

Then he saw a faint light on the horizon. He squinted and saw it flashing brightly, as if giving him a signal. _Do you see that?_ He mouthed to Dawnheart. She shook her head, greenish amber eyes mildly curious. Patchstorm pointed his tail in the direction of the light growing stronger every second.

 _Over there?_ He crinkled his brow when Dawnheart shook her head, her eyes lighting up with amusement as she turned her head away to watch the nursery where the sounds of Ashwhisker's new kits rang out through the night air.

Patchstorm was still puzzled by the light, but as it came closer, he began to see the figure of a cat within it. He was confused. _A cat inside light? What does this all mean?_ He eyed the light suspiciously until it became too bright for him to regard. Then, touching down into the camp, a black-and-white tom stood, his whiskers long and frayed and his muzzle greying.

Patchstorm looked toward Dawnheart, alarmed but she didn't look as if she had seen anything. He took in a deep breath and decided to take his risks by thinking this was a dream. "Hello?" he called quietly. Dawnheart didn't respond and neither did the rest of the camp.

The older cat stepped forward until Patchstorm could see his defining features, extremely large paws, a bushy tail, and almost serene narrowed green eyes. "You…look like me," he stumbled, troubled by this new tom.

"Yes, I do," the cat replied. "I am Darkspots, your father." Patchstorm's eyes widened. "I was thinking about you tonight," he burst out. "I thought you were a rogue! Mother always told us that!" Darkspots frowned. "Yes, your mother did tell you and Dawnheart that in your youth," he meowed wistfully. "But now is the time to tell you the truth. I was a proud BreezeClan warrior in my early days and I met your mother at a Gathering one night. It took me a while to realize I loved her and a few Gatherings afterwards, we met together and your mother, a young warrior gave birth to you and Dawnheart soon after. She was going to give them to StreamClan, but I died and she became too heartbroken to leave you and her behind."

Patchstorm was overwhelmed by the information. He could barely splutter out, "How did you die?" Darkspots' eyes became distant. "Your mother's sister attacked me as I intercepted a blow from another warrior and I was quickly overpowered." He bowed his head humbly. "I had been suffering from a cough earlier but refused to give up the chance to defend my Clan."

He was terrified. His own blood had killed his father. Then his deep anger dissipated replaced by another better feeling. "Who is this sister?" he said carefully, trying not to give away anything. Darkspots smiled grimly, as if understanding his need for revenge. "Lightstar." Patchstorm nodded slowly and they both shared smiles of pure evil.

Both stalking toward the den of Lightstar, they shared some times, Darkspots sharing his life with RiverClan, Patchstorm sharing his life without his father. It was a very good bonding but all the while, they were getting closer to their goal: vengeance.

Finally, they reached her. "Payback?" Darkspots glanced at his son to make sure he was following him. Patchstorm nodded darkly. "Payback," he growled viciously. As they entered the cave, Lightstar stirred, her long cream-colored pelt flowing in the slight breeze. Before Darkspots could give a signal or even react, Patchstorm flew in for the kill, his father watching calmly, smoothly in the background.

His son was just like him, a true murderer with the spirit of death alight in him. What Patchstorm didn't know was that they were going to have some father-son bonding.

Over Dawnheart's spilled blood.

 **This has nearly the same elements as the first one-shot. Not my very best work, nor is it my worst but I like the ending. The ending always has me wanting to love the one-shot. Just so y'all know, I'm going to be posting little mini reviews at the end of each chapter for each one-shot so this is not only the 100 One-Shot Challenge but also the 100 Review Challenge! Wooo! Not much comment on this one, though I do like Patchstorm's character, easygoing, sensible, a bit wiser in his older years….Of course, all that wisdom is going to be muddled by his stupid father's need for revenge. Hey, that's just my opinion. I don't like Darkspots even though I created him. I've ended up making only slightly evil endings and mysterious endings, so far so we will see what other fabulous one-shots and endings we will have. Brookie is out! Peace!**


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